MIRACLE STORIES When we pray for a miracle, do we recognize God’s hand, even if it isn’t exactly what we prayed for—or even knew to pray for? Here’s why I believe in miracles.
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t was a pretty typical church service. Our normal facility was not available, and we had moved to a gymnasium for the service. We were all sitting in folding chairs. Our youngest son was still a small baby, and I had finally gotten him to sleep and settled on his blanket on the floor. With a “whew” and a wipe of my brow, I settled in to listen to the message. Partway through the sermon, however, what I thought were my “mommy hormones” kicked in, and I felt a need to hold my baby. Now, any of you who have taken a baby to church know that once your baby goes down for a nap, you don’t touch him or her. You just let your baby sleep. But the compelling need to hold him just kept getting stronger and stronger, and finally, I gave in and picked him up and snuggled him in my lap. Within minutes, the chair of the gentleman sitting in front of us collapsed, and he and his broken chair landed on the blanket where our little guy had been sleeping! I know, with absolute certainty, that God protected my sweet baby.
Recognizing God’s intervention
I believe in miracles. If we stop and look around, we will find that God does, with great power,
DISCERN
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